


flee to the slimy moonlit riverbed canopied with devastated clouds

by smallredboy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Inspired by Richard Siken, M/M, POV Second Person, Prose Poem-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25699447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: You didn't think you'd feel this way.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 23
Collections: Froday Flash Fiction Little & Monthly Specials 2020





	flee to the slimy moonlit riverbed canopied with devastated clouds

**Author's Note:**

> **fffc's 100th special:** betrayal
> 
> bro i am. i am sad. and richard siken continues to be a big source of inspiration for me. this piece was inspired by _dirty valentine_ (where the title is from) and _planet of love_.
> 
> enjoy!

Your name is Hannibal Lecter and you are not supposed to feel betrayed.

Since you have memory, you have built walls upon walls upon walls of defenses, making sure no one could ever climb over them. It is not a survival mechanism for yourself as it is a survival mechanism for everyone else. You are making sure that you don't get attached to someone, so when that someone sees past your person suit and repels like they've seen something utterly disgusting you won't feel hurt.

This has worked, for the most part. You are veiled in secrecy, in dinner parties and small smiles as you feign friendship with too many people to name.

But then a man who doesn't seem to repel, no matter how hard you hurt him, no matter what you do to his head appears. And you don't know what to do with yourself. You don't know these things. There is too much of a vacuum in friendship, an abyss that cannot be made a bridge out of. You do not know how these things work, and until now, you weren't supposed to.

You trusted him. You never trust people, but as you watch him change, as you hear him talk about her death, you can think that he is one of yours. He is changed— you have changed him— and you will be able to run away with him and your daughter, off to Italy, to be left alone by the investigators for the time being. This is all you've ever dreamt about, now that you know someone worthy of your attention, of your trust.

But then he takes your heart and he rips it apart. But then he doesn't want the rare gift you gave him. But then —

There is blood seeping, soaking his shirt, stomach ripped apart, gutted like a lamb. 

"Did you really believe you could change me the way I changed you?"

He smiles — a pained smile, full of teeth, bordering on a grimace. He looks up at you, he _sees_ you, like no one else has ever seen you before. "I already did."

You know he's right. You don't want to think about it. You didn't know you would feel this way, thinking about him as more than a project, as more than a toy. You are not supposed to feel this way.

You are not supposed to feel betrayed, and you know this. You know these things, you know that there is no betrayal larger than your own. And as you hold your daughter's head, gently, shushing her as he begs for her life, you make a choice you will learn to regret. You slit her throat, watch her tumble to the kitchen floor, him gasping desperately as he tries to stop the bleeding.

As you flee the scene, the moonlight reveling on your misery, the rainclouds forming around you, dampening your bloodstained shirt, all you can think of is him. And how you forgive him.

How you always will.


End file.
